Can you smell him?He smells like mothballs.Can you feel that net?I was so young then.He grew old and couldn't play with them.And my brother would always give them awayTo the man with the jungle in his backyardAnd a train set in his garage.You see, no one drove us then,And his mother broke her hip three times.Serves her right.Her son killed monarchs,And other things i liked to watch fly.